Cut
by MiseryGuts
Summary: Marian Hawke, a talented and powerful mage, riddled with guilt and a burning curiosity, turns to blood magic - reaping a multitude of consequences. Set just before the characters leave for the Deep Roads. F!Hawke/Anders/Fenris. Rated M for coarse language, violence, and sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hola guys, this is my first time on here so i'd love to hear your thoughts. Grammar, fluency, whether you like it or not... whatever - ****_constructive criticism is always welcome_****.**

**This fic requires**** some prior knowledge about the game, as I will be referring to events that happened without introduction, and ditto with some characters. I will be messing around a lot with the time periods - having events happen earlier than they do in the game and etc... Also, I'll be skipping over events if they are irrelevant.**

**I should note that I swap to Anders' POV towards the end of the chapter.**

**Sorry if i'm ruining anyone's vision of Hawke by describing her with long hair.**

**CHAPTER 1**

* * *

"HAWKE, WATCH OUT - BEHIND YOU!" yelled Varric from across the dank, dark room.

His warning was too late, and the force of the hit sent me flying. Suddenly I was crashing into a heap of dirt and god knows what else, and I heard a loud and distinct cracking sound as my leg suffered the brunt of the impact. Inexplicably, I didn't feel the pain until a few moments later, but shit, the _pain_. It shot from my leg straight through my entire body and I started screaming. I tried to inspect my leg but my vision had gone blurry as fuck.

I could faintly hear Carver, but I couldn't quite make out what he was saying. He could have been asking if I was okay or, more likely, swearing profanities at me. I looked up, tears blurring my vision, all I could see were lots of dark blobby shapes moving around the room, but I couldn't make out who the shapes were.

Suddenly, a big blob started moving at high speed towards me. At first I thought it was Carver come to yell at me for falling over, but as it drew nearer, I realised the figure was short in stature, probably a dwarf mercenary, and definitely wasn't friendly. I braced for impact, when suddenly the figure stopped in his tracks, clutched at his head and bobbled around on the spot, moaning in terror. Horror spell - Merrill's doing, no doubt.

By this stage the pain was so overwhelming that I thought I was going to either be sick or pass out. Turns out it was the latter. Everything around me faded from view, and I surrendered to total blackness.

* * *

I felt sore. And cold. And so, _so tired_. I fought my eyes open and couldn't make out a blighted thing. I had a major headache and I rubbed at the top of my head. The room was quite dark, but I could eventually make out my surroundings. I was in Anders' clinic.

This dingy old room is where Anders helps out the sick, the poor, and the injured. People who have nowhere else to go. He's always got his hands full thanks to the massive proportion of the underprivileged in Kirkwall. The large room had a soil floor - not particularly ideal for a hygienic healing environment, but then, why would philanthropic work be easy? The walls were decrepit but somehow still stood strong, and they were adorned with worn red fabric - presumably an attempt to brighten up the place. The furniture included a dozen or so cots, boxes of rags and medical supplies that were stacked in the far corner, and a large desk littered with piles and piles of pages of Anders' scrawled, hurried writings.

Anders was sitting at it now; body motionless and statuesque. Thinking. The room was windowless, with scattered oil lamps providing the only sources of light. The room was deserted, I realised. I was balancing in an old cot, covered with a thin, grey blanket which made a rustling noise when I moved my arm. Roused by the sound, Anders spun around.

"Hawke? Are you with me?" he said, grabbing a bottle of liquid and hurrying over to my cot. I sat up slightly, sticking my elbow behind me to support myself. I tried to say _Yeah_ but what came out was a pitiful, throaty wheezing sound. I cleared my throat and tried again.

"Yeah," I said clearly. Anders knelt beside the cot and uncorked the bottle he was holding.

"Here, drink this. It's elfroot potion. It should help with the healing and pain," he said, pressing it to my lips. I opened my mouth and swallowed the liquid, which happened to taste like burnt stew.

"Ugh," I cried, "Not the tastiest of stuff."

"How are you feeling?" he asked, ignoring my complaint. His eyebrows were furrowed, his brown eyes were moving around my face and arms, scanning for injuries he'd missed. I waved my arms dismissively at him, trying to communicate that I was okay, and tried to get out of the cot.

"Hawke," chastised Anders, "Really, you shouldn't be-"

"I'm fine," I said, pushing his protesting arms away and shakily getting to my feet. Black spots danced across my eyes from standing up so quickly and I blinked them away. I felt a little woozy.

"So what happened, anyway? How long was I out?"

"A few hours. Apparently some mercenary mage hit you with a force spell and you went flying across the room. Merrill said you looked like a bird. How's the leg?" he asked.

"It's a little sore," I said, putting some weight on it, "But I think it's fine, actually." In fact, though it was slightly swollen and discoloured, my leg looked pretty good. Gotta love Anders and his healing powers.

"You know, Hawke, you have to be more careful. The bone was snapped in two and about five gallons of blood was pouring out of your head when you all came barging in here," he said.

I looked up suddenly, "Did anyone else get hurt?"

"Relax, Hawke. Everyone's fine," he said.

I nodded and bit my lip, trying to remember what happened. This was a familiar situation. Visiting Anders' clinic, that is. I liked to follow my instincts in battle, which usually works well for me; i'm a skilled fighter, but I have a tendency to go for the dangerous moves. And while they can be effective, they often result in me getting injured in the process.

"Hmm," I said, "You know, maybe I should learn how to heal."

Anders scoffed, "Well at least then I wouldn't be half so busy. You do realise that it _is_ possible to fight and not get hurt every single time?" he said, echoing my thoughts.

I made a face at him, "Hey, if you're not sore afterwards, you're not doing it right," I said, smirking.

He rolled his eyes and a small smile crossed his lips before he crossed his arms and looked at me scoldingly, "Nevertheless, maybe you should be a little more careful. I'm not sure I'd be able to heal a broken neck, next time."

"Thank you, Anders," I said primly, "I'll take that into consideration." A wave of nausea washed over me and I shuddered.

"I think I'm going to be sick – BUCKET, BUCKET!" I said hurriedly. Anders tossed me a bucket from nearby and I promptly spewed the contents of my stomach into it. I hate vomiting - you feel like you can't breathe and you don't have any time to take a breath because you're too busy blighted _vomiting_. I continued retching for another good minute.

Anders handed me a pitcher of water and I washed my mouth out.

I sunk down on the cot and rubbed at my head in an attempt to soothe my still angrily blaring headache. Anders laughed at me. I must have been a pathetic - but apparently_ entertaining_ - sight.

"You okay?" he asked, smiling cheekily at me.

I looked sideways at him, "You know, Anders, I think you're supposed to be a little more _empathetic_ to your patients," I said, and continued to rub my head.

This just made him laugh again, "Hey, come on Hawke," he said, pulling me down onto the cot, "Maybe you should get some rest now. You look a bit out of it."

"Quit man-handling me Anders I'm fine, really," I said, but I didn't resist. The cot was suddenly really comfy. My vision started to go black around the edges, and I descended into a deep, deep, sleep.

* * *

_I was in the Fade. I was walking along a dusty, mountainous path._

"_Marian?" called a soft, familiar voice. I spun around, looking for the source of the call. "Marian!" I ran down a path towards the sound. I was halfway up a small hill when I heard __her __scream in terror._

"_MARIAN! HELP ME!" she shrieked. The ground started to shake, and I sprinted to the top of the hill to a clearing. A huge ogre was charging at Bethany. It was an ugly, greyish colour, and it had big, twisting horns on the crown of it's head. It's sharp teeth were bared and saliva was leaking out of it's open mouth. "Maker give me strength," I heard her whisper, before she attacked it with a fire spell, the only effect of which was to further enrage the beast._

"_NO!" I screamed, and I tried to fire magic at the damn ogre, but nothing seemed to affect it. My magic wasn't working. I couldn't breathe. I started running over to them but with every step I took I seemed to move further and further away. Resignedly, I stopped running and just watched in horror as the ogre picked Bethany up with one arm and effortlessly smashed her against the hard ground, over and over again. I could hear her shrieking in pain every time she contacted the ground, and a crimson mark was forming there, getting brighter with every hit._

* * *

I heard Hawke sit up suddenly. I looked over at her - she was covered in sweat; breathing heavily. She looked terrified.

"Hawke?" I said, tentatively.

"Just a nightmare," she said, trying to calm her breathing, "I'm fine."

I knew there was more to it but I didn't press the matter.

"You feeling any better?" I asked.

"Much. Thank you, Anders," she said, smiling and baring her teeth. Hawke had pale skin, slightly coloured by the sun. She had bright, blue eyes, and full, red lips that were always sneering, smiling, or being chewed, as they were now. Her long, dark,wavy hair fell freely, which she now proceeded to flick behind her shoulders. But most notable of all was Hawke's presence. She was confident, and always seemed to know more than she let on; this had the effect of intimidating people and making them second-guess their own name.

"Let me check your leg to make sure it's healed properly," I said, walking over.

She nodded and poked her leg out.

I pressed down softly on her skin with my fingertips. It was warm to touch. I prodded the leg in certain areas; ensuring it wouldn't elicit any pain. Satisfied, I looked up at her and nodded.

"So I'm all good?" she asked, standing up and smoothing out her robes. They were a dark red colour, and she had formed long slits down the sides to allow easier movement. You could see most of her legs when she walked, "Not the most decent of attire," Hawke had once reflected to me, "But Maker, don't you think normal robes are just ridiculous to fight in?". I remember Isabela had agreed heartily, eagerly suggesting that, "We should all just fight naked. Oh, it's much easier, _trust me_."

"I think so," I replied, "Any soreness and bruising should disappear in a few days." She nodded, pulling on her boots.

_THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!_ There was an impatient pounding on the door of the clinic.

"Open up, _Magey_!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: If you've played DA2 as much as i have (to the point where you can practically recite the dialogue verbatim), you may notice some of the original dialogue from the game in this chapter (so credit to Bioware for those lines obviously).**

**Anyhow, basically I'm still setting things up for what's to come.**

**So i'm uploading this a week after i uploaded chapter 1, which is good. Hopefully i'll be able to keep the uploading consistent. It's just so odd to be writing a long story - i've only ever really written short stories in one elongated writing session. But now i find that i'm writing a chapter over the course of a few days, and i'm scared that because of that it won't flow very well... So please, ****_tell me what you think_****!**

**CHAPTER 2**

* * *

Anders sighed, obviously recognising the voice, and walked slowly over to the doors of the clinic. He heaved them open, and in walked Carver, looking his usual, sullen self - his face perpetually fastened into a scowl.

"Yo, Bro," I said, standing up and theatrically saluting him. His eyes softened slightly, and he looked me over.

"How are you, sister?" He asked. My heart twinged - He'd been worried.

"All better. So, why are you here? What's happening?"

"Varric wants to meet us at the Hanged Man. Says he has news about the expedition."

"Great. Let's go, then. Anders, you coming?" I looked over at Anders, who was crossing his arms, listening to us.

"No thanks, I have some things I need to take care of," he said.

"Suit yourself," Carver replied coldly, before stalking out.

I gave Anders a small smile and hurried after the sullen teenager.

* * *

The Hanged Man smelled like piss, and the grog they sold here tasted like it, too. Nevertheless, it was a joyous place - with the sound of drunken stories and laughter filling the air.

"Ah, Hawke," said Varric, looking up from his cards to grin at me. Sitting with him was Isabela, Merrill, and Aveline, all of whom were clutching at cards, playing poker. Isabela took the distraction of my arrival as a chance to sneak looks at everyone's cards. I caught her eye and gave her a mock-scolding look. "We were wondering when you'd show up."

"How is your leg feeling, Hawke?" asked Merrill, absent-mindedly placing her cards down, face up, "We were all worried. You should have seen how you went flying across the room! Well, I suppose that's not really possible, is it? Watching yourself, I mean-"

"Kitten!" exclaimed Isabela, moving to cover Merrill's cards. "You must always obscure your cards. There are all kinds of rotten scoundrels in the world who sit there waiting for an opportunity to sneak a look at people's cards. You must always be wary of them, those _bastards_..." she said, winking at me, the corner of her mouth tugging up into a grin.

I laughed, "My leg's all better, Merrill, thanks. So, Varric, you wanted to talk?" Carver and I sat down at the table. Varric looked like he was trying to hold back a grin, and his eyes were glinting with excitement; the way they get when he thinks up a scheme to get coin.

"Bartrand's men are ready to leave for the Deep Roads, and Junior here tells me you finally have the coin together. And, with Blondie's maps, we've picked an entrance. Looks like we're finally ready to head out."

_At last_, I thought. Finally, I'll get a shot to get the damned coin needed to recover my family's estate. Before I could reply, Aveline cleared her throat and looked at me seriously,

"Hawke, we've been in Kirkwall for over a year, and the amount of trouble you've gotten yourself in already doesn't bode well for this expedition. I'd like to come with you. Keep an eye on things."

Unable to come up with a witty retort, I simply said, "Thank you, Aveline, It'll be good to have you there."

And it was the truth. I trusted Aveline with my life. I had come to realise that she was the type of person who would protect her friends, and her family, to the end. I had a great respect for her.

"Alright, then," Varric said, "Let's go explore some Deep Roads."

* * *

The rock wraith started shaking, and a burst of red energy gushed from it, filling the room with a loud shrieking sound and making the cave walls shudder. I was hiding behind a stony pillar that was covered in red lyrium tendrils. The room was quaking so violently that I thought the ground might crack, when suddenly, the energy ceased. I ran out from behind the pillar and sent lightening spells at the rock monster. Carver and Aveline were charging at it, smashing at the rock's body with their swords, and I could hear Varric shouting something and sending powerful arrows soaring into the beast. The creature's movements became slower, more laboured. It was weak. This was my chance.

"GET BACK!" I yelled, spinning my staff and conjuring the strongest spell I could muster. The others retreated back a few paces, and watched me uncertainly. The creature's strange, red, iridescent eyes were focused on me, and its rock frame was moving up and down, almost as though it was heaving for air. With a shout, I sent the spell soaring at it, and it's body shattered into hundreds of little pieces. Dust and silence thickened and filled the air. Varric emerged through a cloud of dust, raising an eyebrow at me, to which I simply shrugged. I could hear Carver muttering something about me always having to steal the final blow.

"Is everyone alright?" I heard Aveline ask, as she walked across the room to us.

"Barely - Maker, the rock wraiths are supposed to be dwarven legends. They're not even supposed to be real!" Varric exclaimed.

"Looked pretty real to me," I stated, dusting myself off.

"I suppose it doesn't matter," he said, his eyes locking onto a room lit up by red, glowing lyrium and filled with golden chests, some overflowing with assorted treasures; golden artefacts, chains and precious stones. Some were sealed shut, waiting to be opened. "Look at what it was guarding! Oh, if only Bartrand could see what he'll be missing out on. That _son of a bitch.._."

Not too soon after we had gotten to the Deep Roads, Bartrand locked Varric, Aveline, Carver and myself in a room and fled with a precious lyrium idol, leaving us for dead.

It was fair to say that Varric was a little _peeved _at his dear brother.

We walked over to the room. "Aha! A key. The kind that opens doors, I hope," said Varric, holding up a silver key triumphantly. We grabbed what treasure we could and headed out. The key opened a nearby door, which opened to a big, dark hallway. Varric looked around, squinting at the walls.

"I'd say this is our way back," he decided.

"How long to get back?" I asked.

"If we're unlucky, maybe a week."

"And if we're lucky?"

"We stumble over Bartrand's corpse on the way."

I laughed at that, though, Varric's usual laid-back, joking tone had darkened, and it was obvious that such was a truthful desire of his. There was going to be a pretty damn _eventful_ reunion between the two brothers upon reaching the surface.

And so we journeyed through the long hallways for days, finding the odd treasure and fighting off the odd darkspawn. At one point about five of the blighted things jumped Carver and I almost thought we'd lost him, but he shattered through them and we continued on our way. The rooms were starting to look more familiar, and I commented as such.

"We're back where we started," said Varric, agreeing, "And in only five days. Not bad, eh?"

"Think we could take a break?" Carver said, sounding breathless, "I feel… wrong." I turned to face him, he was swaying on the spot. He looked awful – exhausted and slightly discoloured.

"I'll wager it was those deep mushrooms we found," said Varric jokingly.

Carver fell to his knees, "No, it's…" and he collapsed.

"Carver!" I cried. I knelt down beside him, grabbing onto his arm to help him sit up.

"Oh Maker, no…" said Aveline, recognising what was happening.

"It's the blight, isn't it?" said Carver despairingly, visibly shaking now, "Just like that Templar, Wesley. I'll be just as dead… just as gone."

"Carver-" I said, tears filling my eyes.

"I'm not going to make it," he interrupted, "Not to the surface. It's getting worse."

"No," I said, my hands shaking, "No Carver. You'll be fine. You can't _die_," I said, my voice breaking on the last word.

He took my hands in his, smiling weakly, "It's just you now, sister. Take care of mother."

Tears were falling freely from my eyes now. _Why didn't I notice what was happening earlier?_

His expression turned foggy, and his eyes rolled back into his head; "No!" I exclaimed, shaking him roughly, "Carver, you can't. Please. Please don't… Varric," I looked up at Varric pleadingly, "Varric he's… Can't we do anything?" But I knew we couldn't. He shook his head softly - apologetically. I looked back at Carver - his face had turned white, lips grey, eyes unmoving, body motionless. He was unconscious. I hugged Carver tightly to me, crying into his shoulder. This can't be happening. First Bethany, and now Carver. How could I let this happen _again_?

After a minute or so I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back, "Come on, Hawke," said Aveline, gently lifting me to my feet and steering me away. Unbeknownst to me, she looked over her shoulder and nodded meaningfully at Varric. He nodded in return, pulled out a dagger and fatally stabbed Carver; killing him before the taint changed him.

* * *

We'd returned from the Deep Roads. I'd told Gamlen and Mother what had happened - that Carver was dead. Mother has been in tears ever since. As for the treasure we had found, Varric is in the midst of bargaining with his contacts, trying to get the best prices, and organising parties to return to certain sites we had discovered and bring back the remaining treasure. With the coin we'll be getting, my family will be able to get back our estate, "You'll be a wealthy woman, Hawke. It wasn't all for nothing," Varric'd said to me.

But all I could see was Carver's face. Pale, weak, _dying_. I kept reliving the last few moments; watching Carver suffer and slowly slip away, and remembering the feelings of utter helplessness that I had felt. He had known he was about to die, and I couldn't do _anything_ to help him. And now he's dead, and I couldn't help but blame myself. If only I could have done something, or prevented him from being fucking infected in the first place. I'm supposed to be his fucking older sister, dammit. I'm supposed to be able to fucking protect him. How could I just let him fucking _die_?

And now both Carver and Bethany were dead. Both times I had just _watched them die_; powerless to help them. But that was going to change.

The house was empty - Mother had gone to the markets and Gamlen was probably out losing whatever remained of his coin - and I was in my empty room, with the door shut tight. I felt nervous and my arms were shaking. I inhaled deeply, trying to relax, and raised a sharp knife to my arm. I pressed down and made an incision, making sure that I drew blood. The slightly viscous, crimson liquid rose quickly to the surface and ran down my arm. Wincing slightly from the pain, I began focusing my magic. Without warning, a shot of energy rushed through me. The feeling was so powerful and different to anything I had felt before that I found myself gasping for breath. Inexplicably, and feeling giddy from the amazing sensation, I started laughing, and allowed the new found power to course through my body.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Alright, on track with Chapter three. The plot thickens; here I shall be introducing a new character concocted from my own little neurons.**

**_Comments always welcome_****!**

**CHAPTER 3**

* * *

- A few months later -

_Serah Hawke,_

_Years past, I fell into wickedness and was swept up in the mad ambitions of the blood mage Tarohne. You spared my life at the Blooming Rose, and for many months, I wished you had killed me. But I found the Maker's Light in my deepest despair, and I now seek absolution._

_Tarohne wrote many tomes containing dark secrets she learned from the Fade. She protected them with demons forged into their very bindings. You must find and destroy these tomes, lest others follow her dark path. __One of the tomes is hidden somewhere in the Viscount's keep, though I know not where the others are.__ I wish I could help you, but the Templars never let me leave my cell. I can only send my prayers._

—_Idunna*_

"Hmmm…" I said thoughtfully, folding the letter up and tossing it down on the freshly polished desk, where all the other letters were kept. I walked towards the hallway that led to the front door.

"Heading out, Serah?" I jumped, forgetting I wasn't alone in the room. I turned around to see Bodahn smiling at me.

"Oh - yes. I shouldn't be long."

"That's good to hear - You haven't been outside in days! A bit of sunshine will do you good. But be careful, Serah, some of the people in town look very… _shady_. They make my hair stand on end… Don't you think, Sandal?" He said, turning to Sandal who was standing in the corner, studying a dark rock – one of his enchantments, undoubtedly. Sandal looked up at the mention of his name and grinned vacantly at Bodahn, but made no reply. Bodahn sighed. I gave a small laugh at the two dwarves and headed out the front doors of the estate. That is to say, my family's estate. Well, what's left of my family, anyway.

As I walked out the door I ran straight into Varric.

"Maker's breath, Hawke, slow down!"

"Oops. Sorry, Varric," I said, regaining my balance. Varric was looking at me strangely - like I was an animal that he'd never seen before.

"So," He said, "How are you, Hawke? You haven't really been around much, lately."

"Yes, I know… I'm okay. I've just been… busy, I suppose."

He was looking down at my arm, frowning. I tucked it behind my back, "What?" I said.

He shook his head, "Nothing. Look, Hawke, I came by to check on you. I'm worried. You haven't been yourself lately… and that's on the very small chance that anyone sees you at all," he sighed. "Anyway, I wanted to invite you to the Hanged Man tonight, to celebrate – I just found a buyer for the last of the treasure we found. Aveline, Rivaini, Daisy, Blondie and Broody are all going to be there. It'll be good for you to get out. _And_ I bought some top quality wine for the occasion. Well. Top-er quality than the usual swill you get there. Well, maybe just."

I sighed, "Alright, Varric. But only because you put it so _irresistibly_."

He grinned, obviously pleased at hearing my characteristic sarcasm, "It is astonishing how often my famed and much admired way with words is described as such. And so often by such beauteous maidens as yourself, too – you're making Bianca green with envy."

"Oh Varric, please stop - you're making me blush," I said, fanning myself for effect.

He chuckled, "I'll see you tonight, Hawke." He waved goodbye and disappeared into a bustling crowd.

Well there's my evening gone. I sighed and started marching through the markets towards the Viscount's Keep. I finally got up the stairs and pushed through the heavy doors, and, as usual, I couldn't help being astounded by the beauty of the building. The Viscount's Keep was massive in size, with amazing, high ceilings held up by thick, strong columns, with red, regal fabrics adorning the beige walls. The building's beauty was unmistakable, though; it was more a building of business than of gratuitous grandeur. Walking through it, people were rushing about, discussing issues and demanding meetings with the Viscount. Guards were scattered throughout the rooms, constantly surveying everyone and maintaining order. I spotted a Templar walking about, making me shiver involuntarily, and I hurried up the stairs and away from them, following a red carpet leading down a hallway. Two guards stood by the door at the end of the hallway. They nodded at me, and opened a set of doors that led to a small room. I nodded back, and tried to walk through confidently, and not display the nervousness that I felt. The doors shut behind me and I let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding in. I berated myself for being so nervous._ I'm in the Viscount's Keep, not some illegal lyrium-trade hub. I'm allowed here, I'm not in danger,_ I reminded myself.

"Now, where is that tome?" I said to no one, looking about the room. I walked around slowly, looking for any signs of the tome Idunna had mentioned. Suddenly, I heard a strange noise - a soft, hushed whispering, though I couldn't make out any words. As if hypnotised by the sound I moved forwards, and opened the second pair of doors at the other side of the room, which led to a much larger - equally empty - room. The whispering sound was getting louder. It was archaic, though I wasn't sure whether the sounds were of any language that I had ever heard. I moved to the left of the room towards the noise, and I could just make out a small object resting on a bench by the wall. As I got closer to it, I realised the object was a book. The tome. The archaic sound was ringing in my ear, and I could hear nothing but the senseless murmuring sounds. My hands moved without my consent towards the book, as though my body was yearning to hold it despite whether or not my conscious mind wanted to. My fingertips connected with it, and the strange sound fell to a hushed whisper again - barely audible. The book felt strange, like I was touching something alive, though it was unmoving and cold. I picked it up - it was heavy for such a small book. I carefully opened the cover, and, emanating from the page, a soft red light illuminated the room –

"_What_ are you doing?" My trance broke and I nearly jumped out of my skin, consequently dropping the tome. It made a loud thudding sound as it hit the floor. I spun around. It was the Templar I had seen before, and she was frowning at me, body tensed, ready to fight. Adrenaline shot through me, making my heart pound against my rib cage. The templar spotted the book at my feet and her face relaxed into a smile.

"Ah, there it is," she said, bending down to pick up the tome. I took a few steps backwards. Oh shit, is she going to bring me to the circle? Is she going to kill me? Should I attack her?

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, holding the book with two hands. After a few moments she finally opened her eyes, and grinned at me.

"You know, Serah Hawke, you should probably be more discrete about searching for blood magic tomes. Some Templars here actually don't like that sort of thing. Odd bastards, they are," she said conversationally. I was dumbstruck.

"What?" I managed to get out.

She looked around the room; checking if anyone was there. Grinning and keeping eye contact with me, she held her hand up and conjured a ball of red light.

My jaw dropped open, "You're… a _Mage_?" I said loudly, my eyes wide, shocked at what I was seeing.

She shushed me, and looked around the room again, "Why don't you say that a bit louder? I don't think everyone in Kirkwall heard you _yet,_" she said.

I shook my head and told myself to get a grip; "Oh. Yes, Sorry... But how – I mean, are you a Templar?"

"Come with me. It's not safe to discuss this here. Follow 10 paces behind me so it doesn't look like you're following me," she said, stuffing the tome into her armour. She turned on her heal, and headed out of the room.

I stood there; utterly and completely shocked. _What in Andraste's name was going on_? Was she trying to trick me into going to the Circle? No, she's a mage… Surely they're not recruiting mages to scout for Apostates; trying to create a sense of trust only to lure them to the circle? What a scary thought. But why on earth was she in a Templar uniform!? I looked down the hallway and realised she had already disappeared from sight while I'd been standing around. I rushed down the hallway, too curious to resist following her, and just caught her walking out the doors of the Keep. I hurried over to catch up with her. I pushed through the doors, and, like she had asked, maintained a 10 pace distance as I followed her through the town.

We were starting to near the gallows, which was making me very nervous. If she went in there, I would take off, I decided. But instead of turning into the gallows, she looked around her before dashing into a dirty alleyway. I looked around too, making sure no one was watching me, and hurried after her. I couldn't see her – she must have turned a corner. I turned left at the end of the alleyway and saw her disappear into a little house. My heart was pounding in my chest – Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. What if this was a trap? This was all so _odd_. I reached for the door knob, quickly turned it, and cautiously walked inside.

"Come in, come in!" she sung from across the room, "Sorry - it's a bit of a mess in here."

She was hurriedly clearing a stack of paper, quills, inkwells, books and other bits and bobs off of a table. The room was extremely dim - any sunlight had been stifled by the heavy curtains covering the windows. The room was small, with a tall bookcase covered in dust and filled to bursting point with books lining the far wall, and the round wooden table taking up most of the room. There was a passage leading to other rooms to the right. She lit a few candles and sat down at the table.

"Please, sit," she said, gesturing to the chair opposite her. I sat down, and studied her. She was quite pretty – she had cropped, tousled, raven hair, and dark, determined eyes. A sizeable scar ran down the side of her lips. It was a wound that had obviously been inflicted long ago, and it seemed to fit perfectly with her character - as though she had been born with it.

"So," I said, "Who the _fuck_ are you? And why in Thedas are you dressed as a Templar?"

She looked amused, "My name is Anastasia. And I'm dressed as a Templar because I _am_ a Templar."

I stood up hurriedly and backed towards the door, summoning a ball of magic in my hand in case Anastasia tries to jump me. You idiot, why did you follow her? She's wearing a Templar's uniform, wasn't that enough of a red flag for you?

"What do you mean you're a Templar? You're a Mage!" I practically shouted at her. She stood, too, and held her hands up in a surrender.

"Relax. I'm… _undercover_, shall we say."

My face was obviously conveying the complete and utter confusion that I felt, because Anastasia sat down and continued;

"I joined the Templars many years ago, and I've been working to gather information about their activities and plans so that I can stop them. Prevent them from harming Mages where I could. But recently I've had my work cut out for me – and because of the tension between the Mages and the Templars, there's been more crack downs on security. In fact, recently I've unearthed some info about something absolutely despicable going on behind closed doors, but I haven't been able to do my usual snooping..."

"Why are you telling me all this?" I said, tentatively sitting down again, snatching my hand closed to put out the little ball of magic i had conjured.

"Well, Serah Hawke," she replied, "I've been looking for some assistance… and I think you're just what I need."

I narrowed my eyes at her, "What_ exactly_ is it that you need assistance with? And how do you know who I am?"

"You give yourself too little credit, Serah. You're quite famous, you know. I hear tales of your escapades all the time. Killing trolls, exploring the Deep Roads, sleeping with the guard captain…" she grinned, raising a dark eyebrow at me.

I rolled my eyes, "Bloody Varric…" I muttered, "Most of these stories are spread by my friend. He tends to exaggerate just a_ little_. And confabulate..." I explained, crossing my arms.

She laughed, "Regardless - what I mean is, I know you're _skilled_. Though, I had no idea that you were…" she trailed off and pulled out the tome she'd been carrying from inside her armour. She looked at me pointedly, and I swallowed nervously.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked me, eyes glinting excitedly. I thought it best to give nothing away, so I said nothing. She was watching me, waiting for a reaction, but, realising she wasn't going to get a response, she sighed. A few moments of staring at each other passed, and she glanced down at my arm and smiled, and quickly reached over. Before I realised what she was doing, she'd pulled my sleeve up, revealing the puncture wounds and half healed cuts running down my arm.

"Practicing blood magic, are we?" she said. I snatched my arm away and glared at her. She laughed, "Hey. No judgements here. So do I. Although, you should really learn to heal. If a Templar – well, if a _different_ Templar saw that, you'd be screwed."

I shook my head in disbelief, "So you're a Templar _and_ a blood mage. I hope you've realised the blighted _colossal_ irony of that!" I said incredulously. She simply smiled back at me, and waited for me to continue.

"Look," I said, "I... _do_ practice blood magic. But I'm extremely new to it. That's why I was looking for that tome – to get some information."

She nodded and considered something for a few moments, and finally said, "You know, I could help you learn, if you like. I'm quite adept at the craft."

I was tempted. Something about Anastasia seemed so... magnetic. Powerful.

The desire to know more took over, "Alright," I said.

"But," she said, "You have to help me in return. Yes?"

"…Deal." I agreed.

* * *

*** Letter directly copied from Dragon Age 2, though I deleted one sentence and added the underlined one.**


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

* * *

Damn it, I was late. I hadn't even realised so much time had passed when I was at Anastasia's house. It was dark out; the streets were enveloped in a black haze that concealed the occasional person walking briskly through the streets. It was eerie - but that was Lowtown. The cold air stung my cheeks, and I walked more quickly and exaggeratedly to try and warm myself up.

I arrived outside the Hanged Man, stopping just outside the door. I sighed. _Come on, Marian, what's the big deal? Go and have a few drinks - maybe it'll be fun._ But I felt strange. Like having fun would be disrespectful to Carver. _Don't be stupid, Marian. That's irrational. You know it is._ But I continued to stand there in the cold, motionless. A few moments later I felt someone's presence behind me.

"Hawke?" I turned around. It was Anders. He looked tired and scruffy – dark circles hung around his eyes and most of his hair had fallen out of the half ponytail he usually kept it in, the loose strands swaying about when he moved his head. His stubble was darker, more pronounced. "You've been standing there for about five minutes, you know. Are you alright?" he asked, frowning.

"Oh, uh, I was just… thinking. You look tired, Anders. Are you alright?" I asked, mirroring his question.

He rubbed his forehead, "Yes. It's just been busy down at the clinic, recently," he said, his face turning pensive for a few moments. He looked up and smiled lopsidedly at me, "It's good to see you, Hawke. You haven't been around much, lately," he said.

I liked his smile. Admittedly, I had simply always liked his mouth in general...

I stepped towards him.

"Hawke, I…" he said, abandoning his words to instead return my intense gaze. I was staring at his lips, we were so close -

The doors of the Hanged Man burst open and a drunken man fell out the door, vomiting on the ground in front of us. Anders and I jumped apart at the sudden noise. Another man laughing loudly behind him helped him up and dragged him into the shadows behind us, and away into the night. Light from inside shone from the now open door.

"Ah, how lovely," I sighed, looking down at the putrid yellow muck.

"Is that Hawke?" said a voice from inside the Hanged Man.

"It certainly looks like her _figure_. Is that Anders with her?" answered another voice.

"It is! Hawke! Blondie! Get in here!" called the first voice.

Anders and I shuffled into the building together. The familiar stench of urine, sweat and cheap alcohol that embodied the Hanged Man came rushing to me, and my muscles relaxed in the warmth of the room. Standing at the bar were Isabella and Varric.

"What in Thedas have you two been doing for so long? We've all been here for hours! We already drank the _good _alcohol," exclaimed Varric, before he started shouting an order of drinks to the barman.

Isabella caught my eye and, discreetly, looked meaningfully at Anders, and raised an eyebrow at me questioningly. Maker, she thought we'd been having sex. I shook my head.

She nodded, "Come on, the rest of the gang are up in Varric's room," she informed us, and we followed her up the stairs and into Varric's suite. It was quite spacious, with sizeable furniture spread around the room, autumnal coloured rugs decorating the floor, and a big, chunky table, at which Merril, Fenris, and Aveline were currently sitting. Aveline and Fenris were discussing the positives and negatives of using a shield, while Merril sat there hopelessly confused at the topic. They looked up at us when we entered.

"Anders, Hawke! We were wondering whether you two'd show up," said Aveline, smiling at me.

"Yes, sorry. Completely lost track of time," I said, sitting down next to her. Isabella sat down on the other side of me, while Anders sat across the table, next to Merril, and poured himself a mug of the near empty jug of yellow liquid. I looked across the table at Fenris who was sitting at the head of the table. He nodded his hello to me and leant his arms against the table, baring his dark, lyrium-tattooed arms.

Isabella straightened up, "I enjoy a man with markings like _that_," she said, staring at Fenris from across the table.

"You've enjoyed many, I suspect," he replied, sitting back and crossing his arms across his chest protectively.

"They look like they go underneath your armour. Do you have them _all over_?"

"What?"

"Well, it would be a shame if they stopped at your chest. That's all I'm saying."

Fenris cleared his throat.

"And what's with that magical fisting thing you do?" she said, making Anders spit out what he'd been drinking. I didn't need to look to know Aveline was rolling her eyes derisively at the exchange.

"Um… sorry?" said Fenris, blushing furiously.

"You know," Isabella quipped, "When you stick your hand into people."

"Oh, that… yes, it's a… _talent_."

"You could make so much coin with that."

By this point I was finding it difficult to hold in my laughter.

"Coin?" said Merril, utterly oblivious to the innuendo, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "Why would someone want to pay for that? I don't think it would be all too enjoyable, for the person. Wouldn't it hurt?"

"Oh no, Kitten, not if it's done right. You just need to be relaxed and make sure someone with a _practiced _hand is doing it to you. Like Fenris," said Isabella, cackling at her own words.

The look of utter astonishment and discomfort on Fenris' face made me burst out laughing.

"Oh dear, did I miss something dirty again?" said Merril.

"_Merril_," said Aveline, a smile creeping onto her face. And the whole table, save for Merril, dissolved into fits of laughter, while Merril looked at us for an explanation.

Varric thumped down a tray of mugs and a large jug of frothy liquid onto the table. Everyone poured themselves a drink and Varric held his own in the air.

"To being filthy rich," he toasted, and we all clanked our glasses together.

And all too quickly, the jug was empty, and requiring a refill.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Oh my god. I'm so sorry for just abandoning this! What's it been - a few months? D:**

**All I can say is that it's been my last year of high school and the last few months were pretty hellish and I was "forced" to neglect this. But i'm all done now - and anxiously awaiting my results that will be here in two days... Wish me luck. I am both absolutely excited and terrified at the same time. Anyhow, I will hopefully be on here much more as I literally have nothing to do now.**

**I've written this nice lengthy chapter (lengthy for me, anyway) which won't make up for my absence but it DOES have some sexytimes in it. Quite risque, so if you're offended by that stuff you best skip the second half of this chapter. Enjoy, and please leave me your thoughts!**

**Also, i'd like to note that I have included_ some_ in-game dialogue with Hawke's interaction with Anders in this chapter (that I obviously do not claim to have written myself).**

**CHAPTER 5**

* * *

_THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!_ Came the sound of someone banging on the front door. I grasped at my head and groaned, a splitting headache forming.

"_Bloody_ Varric and his _bloody_ Hanged Man with an endless supply of _bloody_ _alcohol_," I muttered to myself.

I heard the door being opened and the sound of chatter from the hallway. I hurriedly threw my robes on, and, while braiding my hair in a messy, long plait, I dashed out of my room and descended the stairs to greet whoever it was that felt it necessary to annoy me so early in the morning.

"Messere, Mistress Anastasia to see you," said Bodahn, before nodding politely at me and wandering off into another room.

Anastasia was not wearing her Templar uniform and was instead in casual dress, carrying a majestic, black staff, with a crimson gem at the top of it. She looked me over and grinned, "Hello, Hawke. You look like you had a rough night."

I rubbed my face tiredly and laughed in spite of myself, "Yeah. Swallowed a gallon of alcohol. Or maybe eight."

She laughed, and placed her hands on her hips, "So, are you ready to learn the basics?" she held up the tome from yesterday.

"Oh. You know, you didn't have to come in the blighted _morning_. It's for _sleeping_, not turning yourself into an abomination," I said, trying to make a joke out of what I wasn't ready to admit was a growing fear of mine.

She smiled sickly, before saying, "Hawke, it's past midday."

I looked at the tall windows on the wall. Bright sunlight was streaming into the room, illuminating the dust particles that swam in the air.

"Huh," I said.

"Is it alright to practice in here or should we go somewhere else?" She asked, looking around the room critically. I followed her gaze and studied the space around me.

"It'll have to do. I'll just tell my manservant to leave so that we can be alone," I said.

"Bodahn!" I called, and after a few seconds he scurried into the room, "I need you to buy me some… bread. But, I need a loaf of bread from every store in Kirkwall. And… could you deliver that round to… uh… the docks. There should be someone called… Daniella there, wearing a purple velvet cloak. It's urgent. And… take Sandal with you. He looks like he needs some fresh air."

His eyebrows shot up, "Every store? Well… of course, Messere! Come on Sandal!" he said, gesturing for the little dwarf who had been sitting in the corner of the room - seemingly enchanted by some coloured rocks – to follow him out the door.

"Lets get started," exclaimed Anastasia excitedly, when Bodahn had left, "Now, the first thing I want to tell you is to make _small _incisions. Only make large cuts when you need to. Otherwise, if you don't know how to heal, you'll have cuts all over you. A little bit of blood goes a long way. Now, come here," she said, opening the tome in her hands. Immediately, the archaic whispering sounds that I had heard in the Viscount's Keep started emanating from the book, and a dull, rosy light tinted the room. I shut my eyes to listen to the strange whispering sounds and found myself moving towards Anastasia and the tome. My hands moved to touch the open pages;

"This book will give you power," said Anastasia serenely, "Touch the pages and just give in to it."

I opened my eyes, not particularly liking the sound of 'giving in to' some _blood magic_ tome. But when I opened them I saw Anastasia's dark eyes boring into mine, making me feel relaxed and calm again. My eyes shut, and I felt my arms moving to the tome, resting on its crisp pages.

I felt nothing for the first few moments, but my senses sharpened and suddenly I could hear the whispering noises more clearly. I could make out some of the voices – they were telling me to relax; to accept the power. The whispering got louder and louder when finally, a shot of power exploded through me and a pleasant burning sensation surged through my body, warming it; making me feel confident and strong.

I opened my eyes to see Anastasia grinning at me. I was breathing heavily, my heart pounding in my chest. I felt good. Powerful. She put the tome down on my desk, took out a small knife and walked over to me. She held out her hand, "May I?" she said.

I placed my hand in hers and she made a small incision in my palm, making crimson droplets bubble to the surface.

"Now," she said her words echoing through the room, "Just relax. Submit."

I hadn't even noticed it was dark until I heard a knocking sound at the front door.

"Shit, Bodahn and Sandal must be home," I said. I looked down at my arms, shocked to see blood oozing from dozens of little cuts, and I started panicking. I hadn't meant to do that much. What if Bodahn sees it? Anastasia gave me a knowing smile and placed a hand over my arms, sending a burst of blue energy into me. The cuts healed and left tiny, almost invisible scabs. I mouthed thank you at her and we walked over to the door, which was now being knocked at very insistently.

I swung the heavy thing open and was surprised to see Anders standing there with an annoyed look on his face. Hunh. Not Bodahn. I wonder where that dwarf was. I trickle of guilt danced through my head; he's probably out at the Docks, still looking for a made up woman to give a massive basket of bread to. Anders' look turned to one of surprise when he noticed Anastasia standing next to me.

"I'll see you later, Hawke," she said, winking at me and walking off into the dark town, giving a polite nod to Anders as she passed him.

Anders gazed after her, eyebrows furrowed, "Who was that?" he asked.

"Uh-" Crap. Time to make up a lie. Make it convincing. "Anastasia," I blurted out. Wow. "She… She knew Carver. Said she hadn't seen him for a while. Wanted to know what had happened to him."

I rolled my eyes inwardly. Smooth. Anders regarded me critically before finally, his features softened.

"Can I come in?" he said seriously. He wasn't wearing so much as an annoyed look, but an anxious look; like he had something big on his mind, I noticed.

I stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. Closing the door behind him, I led him through the hallway and into the large, main room. I gasped, spotting the tome still on the desk. I ran over to it, flung it into the desk drawer and locked it. I turned around to see Anders eyeing me suspiciously. I gave a nervous laugh, "Sorry. My diary," I said waving my hands around dismissively, "I always leave it out."

He was staring at me, eyes serious and expressive. He walked slowly over to me.

"Hawke," he said, brown eyes boring into mine. I swallowed, Maker, his eyes are gorgeous. "How are you?"

"Peachy, Anders," I said.

"No, really,"

"Alright," I said, giving a sigh of resignation before whispering conspiratorially, "I'll admit it. But you can't tell anyone. I'm not just_ Peachy_…" I paused for dramatic effect; "I'm an _actual_ Peach."

He sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes as I laughed at my own joke. Well, _he_ obviously doesn't appreciate wonderful humour.

Anders stared around the room, taking in the objects and decorations mother had arranged in an effort to 'liven up the place'. He was probably trying to stifle his annoyance, and soon enough, he actually started smiling. He looked back at me, and his eyes ran up my body slowly, before finally meeting my eyes.

"You know…" he said, "I've been meaning to thank you. Having someone like you making a name for yourself in Kirkwall – it's done a lot for mages."

I was a bit shocked by this proclamation – _someone like you_. Maker, that was ironic. Me, a blood mage, somehow improving the status of mages? If only he knew the truth.

I managed a smile, but ended up frowning at the floor, feeling more than a little guilty over my little secret.

I felt a warm hand lift my chin, forcing me to look up into two lovely brown eyes. Anders and I were standing very close now – I could feel the heat radiate from his body. I placed a hand to his chest and felt his heart beat quicken.

"I've tried to hold back. But… you can't tease me like this and expect me to resist forever," he said, chocolate brown eyes turning hungry.

I grinned, "How long will it take before I drive you mad?"

Smirking, Anders cupped his hand to the side of my head and drew me to him, crashing his lips onto mine. My own hand found the back of his neck and I tangled my fingers into his hair, making it unravel and fall out of its tie. He ran a hand up the side of my body and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. He broke from the kiss and rested his forehead against mine, both of us breathing heavily, now.

"I've wanted this for so long," he said, voice husky, arms gripping my waist tightly to him, "Wanted _you_ for so long."

I could feel a hardness being pressed against me and I couldn't help but smirk. I slipped a hand down to rub his crotch, making Anders gasp.

"My feelings exactly," I said, my lips ghosting over his. I pulled away abruptly and walked slowly up the stairs, shooting my best sultry look over my shoulder.

Anders followed me into my bedroom, and I shut the door behind him and forced him against it. I tugged down his shirt, exposing the flesh beneath it, and pressed a soft kiss just above his collarbone, and trailed my lips up his neck to below his ear, sucking gently on the skin there, earning me a moan from Anders. Apparently I'd hit a sweet spot of his. I slid my hands up his chest and tugged off his furry coat, flinging it on the ground and out of the way. He kicked his shoes off and helped me take off the rest of his clothing ensemble, so that he was just in his undergarments, which I quickly helped him out of, too. I couldn't help but gasp at the sight of him in all his naked glory.

He was surprisingly toned for a mage – I never saw the point of mages developing muscles; we didn't particularly need them because we could rely on our magic to fight. Well at least that's how _I_ justified never working out… But he was absolutely gorgeous. And with his hair hanging messily to his shoulders and his member standing erect, he looked absolutely delectable.

He smiled at me, "Now you," he rasped, pushing me towards my bed and lifting my robes up my body and over my head. He pushed me onto my back and kissed me, while unlacing the short bodice that covered my chest and slipping me out of it. He broke the kiss to take off my underwear before returned to my lips. The kiss was passionate; his tongue slipping into my mouth and dancing with my own.

He placed a slow trail of kisses down my neck and chest until he reached my nipple, which he tested with his tongue, making me squirm. I'd always been particularly sensitive there. His hand cupped and massaged my other breast, and when he lightly squeezed my nipple I couldn't stop a moan from escaping my lips. He chuckled softly and trailed his lips down my stomach, his hands taking hold of my hips as he started sucking gently on my clitoris, making me gasp.

His hands moved to grip my thighs, drawing circles on the inner corners with his thumbs while he continued artfully sucking and licking. My hands tangled in his hair and soon enough I was close to breaking point, when suddenly; he stopped, ceasing all movement. I desperately wanted him to keep going, my nether-region crying out for the attention it was just receiving. He blew cold air onto my clitoris, making me gasp and involuntarily clench my thighs together, which were luckily still being held firmly by Anders and so I didn't decapitate him. He sat back on his heels and looked me over hungrily, and started stroking his length. I felt cold from the lack of contact, and, not that I didn't find the sight of him giving himself a hand job positively erotic, I just wanted his body on mine again.

I thought I could see him frowning at me, head tilted to the side in confusion, making me feel a bit self-conscious. But he leant back down and guided his length into me, making me breathe in sharply. He leaned over me and I drew his face to mine, kissing his lips intensely while he slowly rocked into me.

"Maker, Anders, how did you get so good at this?" I whispered against his ear before nibbling on the lobe, hoping to get the response I had earlier. He slowed his movements to shudder at my action – and I grinned satisfactorily. He turned his head to look me in the eyes. He was grinning slyly,

"Practice," he said, thrusting into me more quickly.

I was tangled in blankets, body arching into the bed.

"I'm close, Anders," I breathed, voice coming out as a whisper. His movement picked up, and he thrust faster into me. My hands clenched the blankets, and when he pinched my nipple, I was sent over the edge, and let out a soft moan as I came. His movements slowed as his seed exploded into me, and we rode out our blissful orgasms.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry sorry sorry! I'm a week late. What can I say? It was Christmas and then New years and also i'm incredibly lazy...**

**I've gone into a creative spurt, though. So the next chapter will be up within a few days!**

**This one's a little on the short side, but it has to be; the sections only really work in these segments... if that makes sense. **

**Anyway; enjoy, and leave me your thoughts!**

**CHAPTER 6**

* * *

_I was in the Deep Roads. Warmth pulsated from the ground; from the lava that surrounded the halls. I looked around me; the walls were familiar. I heard myself saying so. Varric's jovial voice rang through the air, "We're back where we started. And in only five days! Not bad, eh?"_

_ A sinking feeling began to plague me. I knew something was about to go wrong – I had relived these moments so many times before._

_"Think we could take a break?" Carver said, sounding breathless, "I feel… wrong." I turned to face him, he was swaying on the spot. He looked awful – exhausted and slightly discoloured._

_"I'll wager it was those deep mushrooms we found," said Varric. _

_Carver fell to his knees, "No, it's…" and he collapsed. _

_Everything happened in slow motion. I ran over to him like I always did. I cradled him in my arms, warm tears streaked down my face. He was saying something to me. But I couldn't concentrate. The feelings of guilt and helplessness were crushing me and I could do nothing but watch Carver die, again. _

_And then, as I always did, I got angry. _

_Carver is my baby brother and yet; I didn't protect him. I didn't save him. He died and I couldn't do a thing about it! Why was I so weak?_

_The thoughts rang through my head and suddenly the scene slowly froze and a Pride Demon appeared before me. It was hideous and intimidating, and it radiated power. Still clutching Carver, I glared at the beast._

_"Why are you here!" I yelled at it. _

_"I can help you," it said soothingly, it's voice echoing, "I can sense your power. You are very strong. But you want more." _

_I watched it suspiciously, "I can give you that power. You'll be able to save everyone. And you'll never be contested," the creature sang. _

_How tempting it's words were. They swam around me and seemed so reasonable. With its power, no one would ever die again... I could finally protect everyone. _

_"What do you say?" It said, "Do we have a deal?"_

_Something nagged at me and made me hesitate. This didn't seem right. And the more I hesitated, I realised the creature was sucking me in. I sprang up and glared at it defiantly. _

_"NO!" I screamed, "Get away from me! Leave me alone!" _

_Realising it had failed at convincing me, the creature leapt towards me and drowned me in a red, hazy darkness._

I sat up, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. I covered my face with my hands for a minute and tried to steady my breathing.

"Hawke?" said Anders. Startled by his voice I swivelled to face him. The events of last night came rushing back to me.

He looked as though he had been awake for a while, and was sitting against the bed head, staring at me concernedly. His hand moved to hold the side of my head so he could study my face, "Are you alright?"

My breathing was still ragged and I was finding it hard to calm myself down. I was used to nightmares like this but I had never had such a direct confrontation with a Pride Demon in the Fade, before. It must be because of the blood magic I've been using. Maybe it's making me more vulnerable to them. I put a hand on my bare chest and tried to breathe slowly.

"I- yes. Sorry. Nightmare. Bad one."

His eyebrows furrowed, "You get these nightmares a lot, don't you? You did the same thing every night at the clinic a few months ago - waking up suddenly; looking petrified, covered in sweat."

Oh. I hadn't realised. That's sort of embarrassing, really.

I swallowed, "Uh. Right… I get them sometimes," _almost every night, more like it_, "I'm okay, really" I said dismissively, forcing a smile, my breathing finally turning back to normal.

Sunlight was beginning to trickle through the curtains. It must be early morning.

From so close, I realised that Anders' chocolate coloured eyes contained gold flecks around the iris. He was looking at me disbelievingly, but a wonderfully fun idea formed in my head that would force him to drop the subject. Maintaining eye contact, I took hold of his hand and drew it to my lips, slowly kissing each of his fingers. His gold-speckled eyes turned dark – something I now realise happens when he's aroused. I leaned forward and kissed him softly on his lips. Anders responded quickly; he deepened the kiss and his hands brushed against my neck and ran down my shoulder. I climbed on top of him, forcing him to lay down; my hands sliding down to rest on his bare chest. He grinned against my lips and ran his hands down my back to rest on my hips, before proceeding downwards and grasping my buttocks firmly.

I slipped my tongue into Anders' mouth and explored it. Things were getting heated when suddenly, I could hear footsteps clambering up the stairs outside my room, making me freeze. The footsteps drew nearer and Varric burst into the room;

"Hawke you need to – " he stopped in his tracks and an amused look crossed his features before he politely averted his eyes. I hurriedly got off of Anders and brought the sheets to my chin. I couldn't help but giggle before I bit my lip to squelch the ridiculous noise. Anders was smiling sheepishly at Varric.

"My apologies," said Varric, before ambling out of the room, chuckling to himself.

The door closed and I could hear his footsteps clomping down the stairs. I thought I could hear Varric saying something, and a female voice responded. I just made out Varric shouting "No, Rivaini - you can't!" when the door was thrown open again and Isabela peeked her head inside. I bit my lip and gave her a little wave. She grinned, her eyes slowly looking over us both before she placed her hands on her hips.

"I am so sorry to interrupt," she drawled, eyes twinkling, "But we have business to attend to. Do either of you two need a hand getting dressed? Or perhaps you'd like to finish off, first? I'll just wait here quietly, then."

"Thank you, Isabela. Lovely offer, but i'm sure we can manage ourselves. We'll be out in a minute," I said, trying to sound authoritative and also, trying to hold back laughter.

She sighed regretfully and ambled out of the room, and when I heard light footsteps treading down the stairs, I burst out laughing. It was a quirk of mine, to just let the humorous side of things take over, and after a few seconds of my own hysterical cackling, I heard Anders join in.

I bit my lip and turned to him, and, still grinning, said, "Well, I hope you don't mind people knowing about all of this. Varric's probably already told half of Kirkwall who he just walked in on. And Isabela probably just left to tell the other half."

Anders chuckled, "Yes, you're probably right…" his face turned contemplative, "Do… _you _mind if people know?"

I frowned. I wasn't one to feel guilty over having a sex life – I thought the stigma ridiculous and was usually quite proud of my sexual exploits. But I had a feeling his question was less centred around my feelings of sex but around whether I minded if people knew that it was with _him_.

I winked at him, "Not at all."

And with that, I kissed him quickly on the mouth, threw the covers off of me, and searched around for clothes.

"We should probably go see what they want," I said.

Anders nodded at my statement; face turning professional. We dressed and hurried out to see Varric waiting near the main fireplace. Isabela was lounging in the chair at my desk, and she grinned slyly at us as we walked over. Varric wore his usual jovial expression and raised an eyebrow.

"Hawke…" said the dwarf, hesitating for a second before continuing, his face turning serious, "Bartrand is in Kirkwall. One of my contacts has sighted him at his estate. I think it's high time we pay him a visit, wouldn't you say?"


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Alright, here we are. I meant to post this earlier but I had to re-write a lot of it and that took me a lot longer than I expected... Sigh.**

**I've messed with some of the original dragon age plot surrounding the lyrium idol to suit my story in this chapter.**

**I want to note that again, i've included some original lines (and messed with some of them) from the game which are _not_ written by myself - see if you can spot them.**

** Anyway, enjoy, and tell me what you think!**

**CHAPTER 7**

* * *

Varric was a man on a mission. I swear; people even parted for him as he marched determinedly through the streets of high town; Isabela, Anders and myself in tow. It was as though they recognised that here strode a man with an important job to do, and that the importance of said job was essential in maintaining harmony in Kirkwall. Or maybe it was because Varric looked like he would blow up any person who got in his way with his eyes.

We arrived at Bartrand's, and after Varric quickly assessed the building he turned to us, frowning,

"Something's off. Look. There are cobwebs covering the door."

He was right. Delicate silvery webs laced around the corners and crevices on the wooden door, and tiny insects were suspended in the spiders' home.

"No one's come in or out for weeks, maybe months," concluded Isabela.

I cleared my throat, "Come on, this is still our best lead," I said, gesturing to the door, anxious to see that bastard of a dwarf.

Varric nodded and attempted to turn the doorknob.

"Locked," he informed us, before promptly taking out a pin and rattling it expertly in the lock. A clicking sound was heard and Varric swung the door open. We walked inside cautiously, weapons held at the ready.

It was dark inside. Curtains were drawn and no candles were lit. It was empty. Abandoned.

"Are you sure your contact saw Bartrand? Here?" I asked.

"He saw people making deliveries," was Varric's reply.

I looked around the room again. We were all standing in statuesque poses, listening for some sign of life. When none came we moved on to the next room. And the next. But there was more of the same. Silent, dark nothing.

We walked into a small hallway with multiple doors leading from it.

"Wait," I said, holding my finger to my lips. I swore I heard a whisper coming from the door next to me. A movement, perhaps. "Did anybody hear that?" I said, looking around at the group.

They all shrugged and shook their heads. I moved towards the door and pressed my ear against it. A rustling sound came from within.

Steeling my nerves, I quickly turned the handle and jumped into the room. A group of men looked up and advanced on us. They looked wrong, I realised; their complexions were pale and their eyes were dark and empty. We defeated them quickly and without incident, but we were left feeling rattled.

"What did my brother do to these men?"

"I have no idea, but it definitely wasn't natural," said Anders, looking around the room suspiciously as though more would burst out.

"Everyone be on your guard; I have a feeling there's more where they came from," said Varric ominously.

We continued to search through the house; and Varric was right. We found more and more of these empty, cursed men. Eventually we found ourselves in the main living room, and we were greeted by a large group of these sad beings.

They swarmed us, and bodies and spells were flying everywhere. Varric sent a cloud of arrows flying through the air; landing unmercifully through the bodies of the men. Isabela danced around the battlefield; snagging as many of them as she could with her sharp daggers. Anders stood far back; sending defensive spells out to prevent any one of us from being overwhelmed and tried to heal us where healing was needed.

I was running out of energy fast – I had miscalculated the number of enemies and had used up all my mana with my powerful spells too quickly. I sent a stone fist crashing into a group of the men charging towards me, but didn't notice the one standing behind me. It shoved me to the ground; the impact knocking the wind out of me. I sent a bolt of lightning from my position, but it was pathetic; I was out of mana. It stunned him for a second and he looked around confusedly. I scanned the room; all of my companions had their hands full fending off their own enemies; they couldn't help me.

With no other option I grabbed my dagger and sliced my arm, making blood rise quickly to the surface. Power rushed through me and I attacked the stunned man; draining the strength and life from him and using it to re-energise myself. Anastasia had taught me a lot in that session yesterday, and I easily fended off any remaining attacks with my new-found skills. It was strange using blood magic in battle; unfamiliar and risky. But it was very effective, and it made me feel almost invincible; like I was on a high.

Anders sent a rush of ice magic through the last cursed being, and we all took a collective sigh of relief when no more enemies ran out.

"Is everyone alright? Anyone need healing?" he asked, dusting himself off and realigning his feather pauldrons.

I tucked my bleeding arms behind my back. I don't think I could peg these cuts on the fight.

"I think Bianca's a little sore from going that fast," said Varric, retrieving arrows from bodies and running a hand soothingly over his crossbow.

Isabela clicked her tongue, "And I always pegged you as a more _gentle lover_."

Varric's hearty chuckle was interrupted by a voice coming from up a flight of nearby stairs: "Varric? Is that you? Praise the Ancestors!"

Out of the shadows emerged a dwarf; and like Varric, he didn't have a beard, though he was as broad shouldered and stocky as any other dwarf. He looked tired; but definitely wasn't cursed like the other men we had encountered.

"Hugin? Hold up," said Varric, turning to us, "I know him. He's Bartrand's steward." He turned back to Hugin, "What happened here?"

"Varric, your brother…" said Hugin, lowering his eyes; his face crumpling in horror, "That statue he brought out of the Deep Roads… Bartrand said it sang to him. I've been hiding in here, but the guards… they're like crazed animals. He's been forcing them to eat lyrium. He says he's trying to help them hear the song. He... cut off parts of them while they were still alive. Please, you have to stop him."

"This… I mean, Bartrand isn't the nicest guy, but _this_ doesn't sound like my brother."

"Bartrand took the servants and locked himself inside the study," said Hugin, inclining his head towards a nearby door, "No one's come out for days."

"Alright. The hallways are clear, you should make a break for it," said Varric.

The dwarf nodded and ran quickly down the stairs and across the room; disappearing through a doorway.

Varric walked slowly over to the door and, without a moment's hesitation, flung it open, revealing Bartrand himself, crouched in a corner, surrounded by lifeless, bloody, bodies. Except; he was barely recognisable.

He crouched on the ground; his stance resembling that of a small child. He was clutching something that glowed a soft red. He looked thin and dirty; his clothing was ripped and tattered. He must not have eaten or changed in days. But worst of all were his eyes. They were dark and red and he obviously hadn't slept in days; but they were fully animated and darted around the room madly.

He was a pitiful sight; one that none of us could have ever expected. He was so enamoured in whatever object he was holding in his hands that he didn't even notice our entrance.

"Bartrand?" said Varric, holding his crossbow out in front of him. Bartrand didn't look up. "Bartrand, you fool! What have you done?" he said, walking towards him. "Bartrand! Look at me!" he shouted.

The child-man's eyes flicked up at Varric, and recognition widened them.

"V-Varric!" he said, grinning widely. He looked like a lunatic. "Varric, you can hear the song, can't you, little brother? Listen. Listen to the song."

"Bartrand, get a hold of yourself! Do you know where you are? Do you know what you've done?" said Varric angrily.

"Shhhh! Listen. Listen to it!" cried Bartrand agitatedly.

"This doesn't feel right. If he wasn't a dwarf, I'd think a demon did this. His mind has been… poisoned by something powerful," said Anders.

My eyes were drawn to the strange glowing light coming from Bartrand's hands. A red rock peeked through the gaps in his fingers.

"Is that… the lyrium idol?" I said. We all studied the rock Bartrand was clutching at.

"You can't hear it, can you?" said Bartrand, frowning disappointedly.

"We need to get that thing away from him, I think it's warping his mind," said Anders, looking at Varric pointedly.

Varric walked slowly towards his brother, "Bartrand," he said soothingly, holding out his hand, "I need you to give that to me,"

A shudder rippled through Bartrand. He backed away, clutching the idol to his chest.

"No. You can't take it from me. Just listen to the song, little brother, just listen to it!"

Varric shuffled towards him, "I will, Bartrand. Give the idol to me, just for a little while. It will help me hear the song."

Bartrand considered him suspiciously, but then his expression transformed into a childish grin.

"Yes! Yes, here, little brother. You can hold it. Listen to it," sang Bartrand, slowly extending his hand to meet Varric's.

Varric studied the rock, "Wait. This isn't the idol. It's a piece of it. Bartrand, where's the rest of it?"

"I sold it to some woman. I broke a piece off and kept some. Just in case... Just in case," said Bartrand.

"Do you know who this woman is?" said Varric.

Bartrand shook his head and laughed.

Varric sighed and tossed the idol to Anders who wrapped it in some cloth that was scattered on the floor.

"Varric? Wait, the idol -" said Bartrand confusedly.

"Rivaini?" said Varric, "Would you mind?"

Isabela was on Bartrand in less than a second, hitting his head with the hilt of her dagger; knocking him out cold.

Varric said he'd get some of his men to collect Bartrand and bring him to a healer, despite Anders' warning that he was too far gone.

I said I'd hold on to the idol. It wasn't a good idea for Varric to keep it at the Hanged man with all those people, and he didn't want to entrust it to anyone else.

"What if it affects you, Hawke?" said Varric unsurely.

"It won't. I'll keep it bundled up and locked away," I said. I told him to see if he could find out who Bartrand sold the other piece of the idol to. Who knows how it might affect the mystery buyer.

We trundled to our respective homes, and I tossed the idol into our house's vault, securing the latch on it tightly and locking it. I made a beeline for my bedroom, and jumped face first on to the mattress. Possibly a millisecond afterwards, I heard a knock at the door, and moments later, Bodahn scurried into the room.

"Sorry to disturb you, Messere, but you have a guest. Mistress Anastasia is waiting for you downstairs. She says it's urgent."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry for taking so long with this. Again.**

**I have no excuse other than I am a lazy procrastinating sod, really.**

**Also I re-made my tumblr and it has been pretty difficult to get away from that.**

**Anyway, enjoy! Tell me what you think!**

**CHAPTER 8**

* * *

Bodahn shut the door and I groaned into my mattress. My body was sore from all the fighting today and the only thing I wanted to do right now was sleep. Sleep until next week.

Anastasia would have to just wait untill tomorrow.

I sighed as guilt crept into my thoughts. Anastasia had already held up her end of our bargain; I couldn't renege on our agreement now. I heaved myself slowly out of my lovely, warm, soft bed and solemnly waved goodbye to it.

I walked downstairs and found Anastasia in her Templar uniform, staring into the fire; her foot tapping impatiently.

"Anastasia," I said, "What's this about urgent business?"

She looked up at the sound of my voice and grinned, "Ah, Hawke. Listen," she said as I joined her by the fireplace, "I need your help with something."

Her expression turned serious, "For a while now, rumours have been circulating about the Circle. Of Templars beating and raping mages. Even selling them in the slave trade. Now look, Hawke. I can see the doubt in your eyes, but hear me out. I'm not saying the entire order is actually a front for human trafficking. I think it's a smaller, corrupt group of Templars who work together to carry out deals with buyers or to... well. You know," she said sadly.

"Look, Anastasia," I said slowly, trying to process the possibility of those things happening in the Circle, "I wouldn't be surprised if you were right about this... But do you have any solid leads? Any suspects?"

She nodded, "About a week ago, when I was on duty in the Circle, I found a girl crying in the bathroom; her face was bruised and she was absolutely terrified. I tried to ask her what happened and she wouldn't tell me. She kept saying she fell down the stairs. But I knew. I helped her escape, and when we got out, she told me everything. Apparently a bunch of Templars asked her to come with them, late at night. They took her to a room and they _raped_ her. And when she tried to resist they would hit her. She was probably fifteen years old," said Anastasia angrily, "It was dark and she couldn't really see them, but her description of one of them fit one of my suspects. Middle aged man. Blonde. Distinctive line of facial hair running across his cheeks to his mouth. That's definitely Ser Karras. You might know him, he's renowned for his 'punch first, ask questions later' philosophy."

"Alright," I said uncertainly, "But how do we prove it? The girl could have remembered wrong."

"I figured we could search his office. See if we can find any incriminating evidence lying around. But I need someone I can trust to watch my back. That's where you come in, Hawke,"

I groaned, "And I'm guessing you were planning on breaking into the circle tonight, weren't you?"

She nodded.

I sighed, "Okay. But how, may I ask, are we getting in there?"

Anastasia walked over to a bag and dug something out of it. She held it up.

It was a templar uniform.

* * *

I tugged at the armour. It was heavy and it smelled like sweat and it was _fucking uncomfortable_.

"Stop fidgeting, Hawke," chastised Anastasia.

I turned to her and made a derisive face, but Anastasia had decided I should wear a helmet so no one would recognise me so obviously, she couldn't see it. I made an exasperated sigh and we strode determinedly to the gallows.

"Alright," she said, "Now remember what I said, just follow my lead and let me do the talking,"

We walked up the stairs and I tried to ignore the eerie statues of tortured slaves glinting in the moonlight. We reached the doors and Anastasia signed us in, and the guards permitted our entry.

So far so good.

Inside, the atmosphere of the building threw me. All was quiet. Sleeping. But it was also strangely peaceful, like a home. Anastasia led us down corridors and I accidentally snagged the shoulder of my armour on a wall corner, making a loud crashing sound. The armour was too bloody big. I stumbled to regain my composure while Anastasia rolled her eyes at me. We continued to walk down corridors and I noticed tattered rugs worn from use on the ground and barred windows that wouldn't provide much of a view even if they weren't being obscured. Finally, after walking up countless flights of stairs and down several corridors we arrived at a door.

"Okay," muttered Anastasia, "This is his office. He shouldn't be in here. He's out on assignment,"

She fiddled with the door, but it was locked. She slipped a hand between her wrist armour and broke the skin of her arm with a sharp nail. She whispered an incantation and the door unlocked.

"You'll have to teach me that one," I whispered as we shuffled into the room.

She snorted, "Watch the door while I look around," she said, and she began looking through papers and shelves.

I walked back outside the door and surveyed the corridor. The hallway was empty and silent. I could hear Anastasia rustling paper and opening and shutting drawers. I looked around the hallway. So this was the Circle. I wonder what it would be like to live here. The hallways were small, the ceilings low, and the windows were superfluous; they didn't offer any extension of space in the slightest. I would go stir-crazy in here. But perhaps you'd get used to it.

A few minutes passed and I heard footsteps clunking up the stairs at the end of the hallway.

"Anastasia hide; someone's coming!" I hissed into the room before shutting the door and pretending to stand guard in front of it, inwardly rolling my eyes because I had no idea why a templar would be standing guard here.

A figure emerged; he had a strange line of facial hair across his cheeks. Shit. Ser Karras must have come back early. Wonderful.

He walked up to me and I noticed how ugly this man was. He had thick, slimy lips that his ridiculous facial hair just drew attention to. He had a squashed nose and his eyes were crooked and beady. He gave me a confused look.

"Oh, Ser Karras," I said loudly, "I... heard some strange noises coming from one of the rooms down the end of the corridor. I think someone's practising blood magic,"

"What?" said Karras, his face transforming into alarm.

"I'll show you, follow me," I said, hoping Anastasia would hear and take the opportunity to make a dash for it.

I hurried down the corridor and down the stairs, Ser Karras following behind me. I walked up to a random door and hoped desperately that it would be empty of any mages. I creaked the door open and stifled a sigh of relief when I found it to be empty. Ser Karras strode into the room and looked it up and down critically with his beady little eyes. When he was satisfied that the room was empty, Karras turned to me with a frown that made his ugly features even uglier.

"Well?" he said impatiently.

"My apologies... It's been a long shift, I must be hearing things," I said, hoping that templars actually had 'shifts'.

His frown deepened, "Who _are_ you? I don't think I know you,"

I let out a strangled laugh, "R-right. I'm new. Transferred from the Ferelden circle a few days ago. Lovely to meet you. If you don't mind, I'll just return to my watch, now," I said hurriedly before turning on my heel and walking back up the stairs and down the corridor. I could hear Ser Karras behind me and walked brusquely past his office and hid out of sight behind the corner of the hall.

I heard Karras mutter, "Strange... I thought I locked this,"

A door opened and shut and then there was silence in the corridor. I couldn't hear any exclamations or fighting. Anastasia must have left. Thank the Maker. A hand grabbed my arm and I sucked in twenty billion litres of oxygen.

I turned to see Anastasia grinning at me and holding her finger to her lips.

"Come on Hawke," she said, and I followed her down stairs and back through corridors, all the while squelching the questions that wanted to jump from my lips, until at last we reached the entrance. Anastasia signed us out and we were let out.

When we were finally out of the gallows I threw my helmet off and burst out laughing.

Anastasia grinned at me and dissolved into laughter, too.

"I can't believe Karras got back early!" said Anastasia incredulously.

"_I_ can't believe that we managed to get out of that!" I said, laughing.

I frowned, remembering why we actually came here, "Did you find anything in his office?"

Anastasia gave a sickly smile, "I did. Come on, I'll show you at your house,"

* * *

When we were safely inside my house I slipped out of the heavy armour and sighed with relief at being free of the wretched thing.

We walked into the main room and Anastasia pulled a bunch of documents from under her armour.

"I found these," she said, holding them up excitedly, "They're business transactions. This one is confirming the trade of 7 young persons from the docks three days from now. And it's helpfully signed by Karras. We have proof of illegal slave trade being perpetrated by Templars in the circle!"

I looked over the paper. She was right. 7 young persons. Shit. Those bastards.

I looked through the papers and found more similar sheets confirming the trade of people. Young, teenage, men, women... They were all dated weeks and months before today. The trades had already happened. All those poor people.

"Wouldn't the Circle have noticed so many people going missing?" I said as I flipped through the sheets.

"Not if they never got to the Circle in the first place," said Anastasia.

"I don't think these papers will be enough. Karas could claim that the signature was forged," I said, biting my lip.

"Plus, they only prove that _he's_ involved, and if i'm right, there are a number of other Templars in on this, too," said Anastasia, her eyes filling with hatred, "We need to catch them in the act. This should be enough to perk Knight Commander Meredith's interests. I'll organise a meeting with her and see if she'll come to this deal. We'll catch them red-handed,"

I tilted my head to the side, "Anastasia. You never told me _why_ exactly you became a Templar," I said.

Anastasia considered me for a few moments. Finally she looked at the ground and sighed, "Alright, Hawke. I'll tell you..."

She crossed her arms over her chest, and a few seconds passed while she formulated her thoughts before she began: "Years ago, when I was very young, Templars raided my house. My family were all mages. The templars tried to take me and my little brother… My parents tried to fight them but they were completely outnumbered. The templars were so violent. They killed them. And my poor little brother, he probably didn't even understand what was going on. One brought a knife to my neck and grabbed me, but I bit his hand and broke free. He managed to leave a lovely deep cut on my face, though," she laughed humourlessly and tapped at the scar near her lips.

"And I made a dash for it and I ran. I ran for hours and hours, and I guess the Templars gave up on me. I never saw my brother again. After that I moved here and lived with my Grandmother, and she brought me up. A few times I saw Templars interrogating people; asking where any mages they knew were. They would bribe the poor ones. Or they'd beat people and blackmail them until they talked. It used to terrify me. But my grandma was a strong-willed, intelligent woman, and she kept me safe from the Templars while so many others were taken,"

Anastasia looked at me, her eyes swirling with fury at her memories, "That's why I became a Templar. I couldn't let people keep being terrorised by them. I knew I couldn't make a difference unless I knew about their actions. And to do that, I needed to become a Templar. It took a while. I trained just like the rest of them. And finally, I got the uniform about a year ago. I kept an eye out for any funny business and I've been trying to help people whenever possible, gathering as much information as I could along the way. And I've been researching blood magic. Trying to get as much power as I could to help me,"

She looked up at me and shrugged.

"Maker," I said, a little lost for words, "So... I'm guessing you've tried looking for your brother?"

She nodded, "I haven't been able to find him anywhere,"

"Well," I said, "I'll help you find him. Whatever you need,"

She smiled at me, making her scar shine in the light of the fire, "Thank you, Hawke. If I find any leads I'll let you know," she said.

I nodded, "Now, back to business. I'll keep the documents here for safekeeping-" I said, grabbing the key from my pocket and unlocking and opening my desk drawer. A red light shone from within it and I gasped suddenly.

"What in Thedas is _that_?" said Anastasia. I looked up and saw her eyes go wide.

"It's... It's part of a lyrium idol that I found in the deep roads," I said, deciding to trust Anastasia with the information.

"Lyrium?" she said, staring wondrously at it.

I nodded and stuffed the papers into the draw with the idol, closed the draw and locked it.

"Well," I said, slipping the key into my pocket, "I don't know about you but I'm about to pass out from exhaustion,"

Anastasia focused her eyes on me and laughed, "Alright Hawke," she grabbed my hand and held it between hers, "Thank you for coming with me. Really. And thanks for listening,"

I squeezed her hand affectionately and she left, stuffing the Templar uniform I had chucked on the floor into a bag and hauling it over her shoulder.

When I was finally alone I gave a cheer;

"I can go to sleep now!"


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Okay hahahahahaha.**

**Yes.**

**I am late again.**

**And this chapter is kind of short.**

**...**

**I am the worst.**

**CHAPTER 9**

* * *

"Ser Martinez," said Knight Commander Meredith in her characteristically stern tone. She focused her icy blue eyes on us, "And Serrah Hawke."

"Knight Commander," began Anastasia in a clear, confident voice, "It has come to our attention that there may be a group of corrupt Templars working at the circle."

A deep frown twisted the Knight Commanders features, "That is a serious accusation—I assume you have some evidence to back this claim?"

I handed her the documents we had stolen from Karras' office, "Contracts for the illegal trade of mages. Signed by Ser Karras," I said.

Meredith took the documents and scrutinised them carefully. After a few minutes she looked up at us, "Slave trade... You do realise these signatures could have easily been forged," she said dismissively, handing them back to me.

"Yes, but if you look at the latest contract," I said, handing a page back to her, "An exchange is happening tonight at an abandoned warehouse near the docks. We could catch them red-handed."

Meredith looked up at us both, "I'm sorry, but I do not have time to investigate every accusation thrown my way, especially one with so little evidence."

"But—" protested Anastasia.

"That is final," interrupted Meredith harshly.

Anastasia held her superior's gaze briefly before storming out angrily. I nodded respectfully at the Knight-Commander and followed Anastasia out of the room.

"That woman is—" began Anastasia angrily, but she held her tongue when she noticed Ser Cullen approaching.

"Ser Cullen," said Anastasia dutifully.

"Ser Martinez, Serrah Hawke," greeted Ser Cullen, "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with the Knight-Commander. Look, you must understand; the Knight-Commander will hear a dozen accusations in a single week. She holds the integrity and honour of the Templars as a matter of great importance," he said, a strange, dream-like expression inexplicably crossing over his face at this thought, "But she cannot investigate each one of these accusations."

Anastasia simply glared at him, unimpressed by his explanation.

"But," he continued, "Something about Karras has always put me off. I'd like to offer my services in your investigation."

"Thank you, Ser Cullen. That's very gracious of you," said Anastasia, obviously shocked by his offer.

"Meet us by the east docks at dusk," I said, "We'll get to the warehouse early and stake it out."

Cullen was already there when Anastasia and I arrived.

Ser Cullen was an admirable man—for a Templar. He took pride in his work and was a fair and understanding man. His hatred of mages was tangible, but stemmed from traumatic past experiences rather than the usual blind hatred exhibited by most Templars, which could be perceived as a more honourable hatred if hatred could be classified as thus.

I wouldn't go so far as to say I liked him—his participation in the oppression of mages prohibited this—but I could respect him; and his decision to aid us showed a compassion that was beginning to become a rare commodity.

"Alright," I said to our little group, "Follow me, and be as quiet as you can. We don't want to attract any attention to ourselves."

I lead Anastasia and Cullen along the docks and we ducked into a dark alleyway that ran behind the warehouse where the exchange should take place. It was an old, run-down warehouse that was supposed to be abandoned.

"We need to get to a place where we can watch the deal go down without being seen. Preferably somewhere high up," said Cullen, scanning our surroundings.

I looked around; the sun had nearly set and it was getting darker - we needed to move quickly.

I spotted a window high above us. There's our point of entrance.

We climbed up the discarded pile of rotted wooden boxes that littered the alleyway and scaled the decrepit building. Once I could reach the window, I stuck my staff through the glass. I peered inside the building; it was dark, but the many holes in the roof and walls allowed light to seep through. I could see rubbish and crates on the floor, but otherwise, the building was totally abandoned. A scaffold rested against the wall and I slid onto the windowsill. I stepped tentatively onto the scaffold and tested its strength. It didn't move. Reassured, I slid through and looked around for somewhere to obscure ourselves. There were some boxes on an adjacent scaffold that we could hide behind, but still easily see and hear anything happening on the floor of the warehouse. The others followed me and we took our positions. And we waited.

I was about to suggest that we must have gotten the date wrong when finally; a figure stepped through the door wearing a Templar uniform and a black hood that obscured his face. He walked into the middle of the room and looked around quickly before heaving open what must have been a trap door. Another individual looking identical to the hooded figure stepped out, followed by a skinny, probably teenaged boy in shackles. An even younger girl followed him, and then another child, and four others looking scruffy and tired and scared. Two other hooded Templars stepped out, and then the trap door was closed.

I sensed Anastasia looking at me and met her gaze, she gestured to the ground, she wanted to confront them now. I shook my head at her. We needed to catch them in the act.

One of the children was crying, and the older boy was trying to comfort him. One of the Templars barked at them to shut up. The crying child hid behind the boy; who stood his ground and met the Templars gaze defiantly. The Templar seemed amused by this action and started approaching them, my hand unconsciously moving to grip my staff, when a movement at the door stopped the interaction. Three more figures entered the room. The middle figure was short and fat, and was accompanied by two incredibly big, burly men, both of whom sported large tattoos down their arms and necks; evidently his body guards. One of the hooded figures walked up to the fat individual and shook his hand.

"Seven slaves, ready to ship," said the hooded figure, and though the hood slightly muffled his voice, I could easily identify the voice as belonging to Karass, "You better have the coin this time, Armond."

The little man, apparently named Armond, offered a menacing smile and handed him a small clinking bag.

I looked over at Cullen and Anastasia and nodded, and all at once, we stood up from our hiding place. I kicked the boxes off the scaffold and we jumped onto the ground. Anastasia and Cullen pulled out their swords. Anastasia was refraining from using magic around Cullen.

The gathering of people jumped back in surprise, "Don't move, and you won't be harmed. For violating the law and engaging in the illegal trade of persons, I must bring you in to custody," said Cullen.

Immediately, the two gigantic bodyguards and two of the Templar figures drew their weapons and rounded on us.

I sent a bolt of lightning towards an approaching Templar, stunning him temporarily. One of the tattooed giants had reached Cullen and swung a spiked mace at him, who swiftly blocked the attack with his shield and started slashing at him dangerously with his sword. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Anastasia deflect an attack from the other giant and slash her sword at him. Another Templar had approached me and I sent a rock fist flying into him, making him stagger backwards. The other Templar had backed away and was yelling at the other to do the same.

I was about to follow them when Anastasia shouted behind me, "HAWKE! BEHIND YOU!"

I spun around and managed to dodge one of Armond's charging bodyguards. He regained his balance and swung an axe at me, making me jump back quickly to avoid it. I charged a bolt of electricity between my hands and sent it mercilessly into the man's body, making his skin blacken with ash. He roared in pain and was about to charge at me again when Anastasia bashed him with her Templar-issue shield. He quickly recovered from the hit and knocked Anastasia back with the hilt of his axe, sending her flying into the ground. He held his axe menacingly in the air, ready to deliver a killing blow, when I cast a prison of crushing magic; temporarily paralysing the brute.

Anastasia got to her feet and smashed the side of his head with her shield; knocking him out cold.

"KARASS!" yelled Cullen, from across the room. The Templars were retreating to the doorway, and one of the figures turned slightly—involuntarily— at the call, but quickly continued running. The hooded Templars were out of the building before any of us had a chance to stop them, slamming the door behind them. I knew they were too far ahead to follow them, and I ground my teeth angrily. I looked around: Cullen had managed to incapacitate the man he was fighting, who lay on the floor now, arms tied behind his back. The short man Karass had called 'Armond' had vanished—obviously he'd made a run for it when the fight started.

The Templars had abandoned the young group of mages, who now stood huddled together, incredulous expressions on their faces.

"It's okay," I said to them, "We're not going to hurt you."

Cullen and Anastasia bound the other bodyguards' hands and joined me.

"Can we go home?" said a little girl, her big, brown eyes staring up at me hopefully. She was clutching her dress in her hands; her cheeks were smeared with dirt and tears.

"We're going to take you to the Circle," said Cullen softly, "You'll be safe there."

The oldest boy who had so determinedly stared down the Templar from before looked at me with the same expression he had given the Templar, making a painful tightening form in my chest.

He shook his head, "Right," he muttered angrily.

I closed my eyes and sighed softly. It had never entered into my head that Cullen would want to take them to the Circle. That I would be contributing to doing to these children something that I myself was terrified of happening to me.

"I'm sorry," I told him, making him roll his eyes and glare at the floor.

I ran out of the warehouse to grab a member of the city guard to take the unconscious bodyguards away, and Cullen and Anastasia took the children back to the circle, leaving me to wander back home by myself.

"That's not going to be enough to convict him," Cullen had said disappointedly before we all dispersed, "It was definitely him… But none of us actually saw his face."

I marched through the streets back towards Hightown, kicking a rock along the road as I went. I couldn't get that teenaged boy's expression out of my head. He was looking at me like I was one of the Templars.

Well, I thought to myself, now we know that Karass is definitely involved. Only, we can't prove it. And proving it is going to be much harder now that he's on to us.


End file.
